


sow this field with future fucks

by stepquietly



Category: Minority Report (TV 2015)
Genre: Coda to S01E02, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Podfic Welcome, Threesome - F/M/M, competitive fucking, sexual crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:10:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepquietly/pseuds/stepquietly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lara lets her own eyes go narrow, bites her lips as she considers all the variables in play. It’s a good excuse – Dash and her on a blind date back at her apartment – and Blake’s easily distracted. If she’s lucky, he’ll buy the ruse and no one’ll go looking for the precog in the room.</p><p>She opens her mouth to snipe back at him, and Dash hisses “<i>No. That ruins it</i>” like the world’s worst predictive system.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sow this field with future fucks

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Lenore/profile)[](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Lenore/)**Lenore** for the amazing and speedy beta. All remaining mistakes are mine. 
> 
> I basically wrote this fic so I could use that title and laugh a whole bunch. No regrets!

Lara’s luck hasn’t been the best lately, what with blatantly being passed over for promotion and the Feds snooping around the Routledge case, so it’s hardly a surprise when Dash looks up from where he’s been sitting on her sofa, huge blue eyes wide with panic right before her doorbell rings.

“It’s your boss,” Dash hisses, springing up like a scalded cat, catching his ankle on the end table and going down like a sack of bricks.

There’s a long silent second where Lara stares at the mess of Dash’s collapsed figure and the overturned end table, thinking about how none of her training has ever covered a situation quite like this, before Blake’s pounding on her door and yelling for her to respond, threatening to break the door down in 3-2-1…

“I’m fine!” she yells, tipping her head back to the ceiling with annoyance while Dash scrambles upright, the table clunking loudly against the floor as he pushes it aside. “I’m coming!”

She puts out a hand to stop Dash’s panicked retreat into one of the other rooms. “Stay where you are,” she tells him, keeping her voice calm and low, trying to soothe him and keep control of the situation. “He probably already knows there’s someone in here so just follow my lead, okay?”

Dash nods, visibly anxious. If they’re going to keep working cases together, the first thing she’s going to have to do is teach him how to fake it better than this.

“Just… be calm,” she reminds him as she heads over to unlock the door. “You’re safe here.”

The door swings open, and there’s Blake. The aura of smug satisfaction he’s been wearing around her for the last couple of weeks is slightly dented by the fading evidence of worry in his crinkled brow and the quick sweep of his eyes over her figure, assessing her for any signs of injury or foul play before he pushes past her into her home.

“I heard a crash,” he says, already ignoring her in favour of scanning the room, eyes honing in on Dash’s awkward form standing by the overturned end table. Blake’s shoulders square automatically; Lara can practically see him cataloguing and reacting to Dash’s height and weight, his arms flexing as he squeezes his hands into fists and loosens them, ready to move in if he needs to.

Lord preserve her from ex-partners and protective idiots.

“Hi, Blake. It’s nice to see you. Come in, why don’t you,” Lara reminds him, poisonously sweet as she shuts the door and leans back against it. “This is Dash. Say hi, Dash,” she prompts.

Dash shoots her a nervous look as he waves tentatively at Blake, who continues to eye him like he’s a threat to be taken down.

“Hi, Vega. It’s nice to see you,” Blake dutifully parrots back and avoids greeting Dash by abruptly switching tack. “What was that crash just now?”

Lara’s about to explain how it’s none of Blake’s business and boot him back out the door, but Dash’s weird affinity for extreme social awkwardness kicks in then. “I fell off the sofa,” he says, earnest and begging to be believed, like that’s anything Blake needs to know.

Lara closes her eyes and lets her head thunk back against the door. She doesn’t even need to see Blake’s expression to know that this is all terrible already.

When she pushes past the second-hand embarrassment and opens her eyes again, Dash is looking between her and Blake with the expression of a puppy that’s desperate to be forgiven. 

“The sofa,” Blake says consideringly, all the vowels drawn out like he’s checking the words for whether or not to believe them. “What were you doing on the sofa?” He’s got his mean interrogator voice on.

“None of your business,” Lara spits out immediately.

“Sitting!” Dash says at exactly the same time, his hands held up like Blake’s got a gun pointed his way. “Just sitting.”

“It’s none of your business,” Lara repeats, meaner than before because sometimes Blake doesn’t take the first nudge, and Dash shifts his panicked puppy look from Blake to her, hilariously raising his hands even higher, eyes going more nervous.

It’s all Lara can do to keep a straight face. Blake swings around to look at her, all hot, sly eyes and smiling mouth like he got exactly what he came for. Everything in her goes tight and edged again as her chin comes up to counter that look.

“Changed your mind, huh? Blind date going better than you thought?”

Lara can hear Blake paint the whole scene in just those two lines – Dash and her on the couch, fooling around with Dash’s bitten pink lips on hers and his stubble catching against her neck, her nails digging into the muscles of his shoulders, the two of them so caught up in the moment that one of them fell over when startled by the bell.

The idea’s simultaneously ridiculous and hot as hell, and Lara feels her lips automatically press together, puckish amusement threatening to escape.

She’s distracted by Dash’s startled “ _Oh my god_ ,” and looks over to see him jerk slightly, stare briefly at Blake, and then skip over to meet her eyes before covering his face, cheeks flaming.

She waits for him to clarify what that means, but he’s mostly awkwardly rubbing at his eyes and trying to avoid making any sort of meaningful eye contact.

“You okay, man?” Blake asks, his tone backing down from mean-cop-interrogator to citizen-possibly-injured-please-standby. And god, Lara has spent way too much time working with this asshole over the last few years because her body immediately sinks into a less threatening posture, like an automated response drilled into her bones.

“You two,” Dash whispers, looking up once to catch her eye, subtle as a brick because _that’s_ not suspicious as hell. There’s no way Blake’s not going to get that there’s a big fat secret waiting to be uncovered with this idiot all but drawing giant neon signs around their whole relationship.

And that’s when she remembers that Dash doesn’t get visions about his own life, he’d said so, and that must mean the two refers to Blake and herself which means…

Lara briefly wonders if she’s going to kill Blake like she’s been fantasising ever since his promotion or if he’s going to kill her for illegally working with a precog before it actually penetrates that Dash isn’t looking scared so much as horrifically embarrassed. And that means… that means…

“Oh, hell no,” she scoffs, cocking a hip and pointing at Blake. “ _Him_?”

Dash nods, clearly desperate not to talk about this. 

“Really?” She can’t help it. She has to be sure.

“Yeah.” He sounds like he’d give anything not to be here, and Lara really doesn’t blame him. Given half a choice, she thinks she might go run screaming through the streets. Blake? Of all people in this world, ever, _Blake_?! Ugh.

Lara stares up at the ceiling in the hope that death will just take her now and spare her whatever’s coming.

“Me what?” Blake asks, mean voice in full effect because he’s clearly back to being suspicious as hell. Which is sort of too awkward to be believed and also a little impossible to really explain. Lara’s hardly in a position to point out how Dash is her precog informant and they had a little crime solving caper earlier that night. Add in that he apparently totally just had a vision of Lara letting Blake into her secret garden like a filthy Billy Joel metaphor and no. Just, no. 

Lara decides discretion is the better part of valour and plays it safe and silent. She leans back against the door like none of this is anything she needs to explain and just arches a brow challengingly at Blake when he looks at her for an explanation.

But much as she hates to admit it, Blake didn’t make lieutenant for nothing. “Me what?” he repeats, keeping his eyes on her and waiting for the weakest link in the room to crack. There’s a grin waiting at the corner of his mouth, cocky and self-assured, and she reacts like she always does to this side of him, pushes her chin up and spreads her stance so she can push off on the balls of her feet, anticipation coiling heavy and thick in her chest and pooling low in her stomach.

“Me what, huh?” he repeats for the third time, his voice gone husky and considering, the air in the room somehow heavier than it was a second ago. “What’re you two hiding from me?”

He takes a step closer to her, more promise than threat, but apparently Dash hasn’t quite learned the difference because he cracks immediately, calling out “ _She likes you_!” as loudly as he can.

There’s a long pause in which Lara stares up at Blake’s confused face before something in her expression makes him grin in triumph.

Lara wonders if Arthur is writing her name down on one of his tiny cards right now because there’s about to be a murder in her house tonight and it might just be his baby brother. Or Blake. Or both, if she can swing it.

“You _like_ me,” Blake repeats like a childish taunt, a laugh threading the edges of his voice.

“Ugh, I _don’t_ ,” she tells him, Dash, the whole damn universe. “He’s an ass!”

“It’s a fine ass,” Blake says, smiling like butter wouldn’t melt. “An ass you want.”

Lara glares at him because there’s really going to be no dealing with him anymore.

She’s been leaning against the door all this time, and Blake takes a step to get in close, just that last bit, brackets her in so their foreheads are practically touching. She can feel the heat of him through his clothes, hers, the way he’s near enough so a deep breath would have her breasts touching his chest. She gets a hand up and grabs his shirt, pulls him the rest of the way so they’re actually pressed together, the taunt of her fist in his shirt belied by the way she’s got her neck arched back like an invitation, the curls of her hair falling away from her cheeks. This is how they’ve always played, just a little mean around the edges.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice low and eyes at half mast. “I thought so.”

Lara lets her own eyes go narrow, bites her lips as she considers all the variables in play. It’s a good excuse – Dash and her on a blind date back at her apartment – and Blake’s easily distracted. If she’s lucky, he’ll buy the ruse and no one’ll go looking for the precog in the room.

She opens her mouth to snipe back at him, and Dash hisses “ _No. That ruins it_ ” like the world’s worst predictive system.

So she swallows back the words and considers plan B. She stares into Blake’s dark eyes and checks in with herself, and yeah, yeah, she’s good with doing this. She _wants_ it, maybe even without all this stuff. She’s spent a lot of time telling herself that she didn’t, that it would be a mistake, but their relationship is fucked now anyway so – 

Her heart skips a beat as she wraps a hand around the back of his neck, pulls Blake down so she can kiss him hard, and suddenly it’s like flashfire between them, Blake’s fucking huge shoulders _right there_ and Lara scrabbling desperately to climb him like a mountain, twisting her hand in the soft material of his shirt so she can grab a fistful and grind herself against him, tired of waiting.

“You thought so?” She taunts, bites the curve of his jaw where the stubble tickles against her lips. “You’ve never thought about this.” She whispers and digs her nails into the curve of his shoulder before she kisses him again, biting down just a bit when he picks up her leg to slam her against the door, her hips cradling his, his dick filling and beginning to push against her hip.

“I’m just gonna go,” Dash calls out, voice high and almost cracking, and the two of them freeze mid-kiss, abruptly remembering that he’s still in the room.

She pulls away from Blake’s mouth, her own lips sore, swollen, the whole of her incredibly conscious of the heat and weight of Blake’s hand against her thigh, holding her up and open against the door. They don’t look at each other, but she can feel Blake’s fingers flexing against her thigh, the way he’s breathing fast and heavy into her hair.

When she looks over to where Dash’s standing, cheeks flushed and lips bitten pink, his eyes half-begging and his hands folded so that it’s obvious he’s trying to hide an erection, she has to work to catch her breath, her hand tightening instinctively on Blake’s shoulder with the urge to – do _something_.

But it’s not quite as simple as what she has with Blake, the weird unequal equals thing they’ve found themselves locked into.

Dash is different. There’s no question that there’s something sweet, almost virginal about him. She’d bet good money that no one’s ever touched him before, that he’s barely even touched himself maybe. He’s probably watched it all though; probably seen everything she can imagine and then some, so he’s not really all that fresh in the box as she’s painting him. But he’s close enough that it makes her want to put her hands all over him, mark him up just that little bit so he stops looking at her like she’s porcelain and he’s afraid to touch.

And then there’s that mental image Blake put in her head of her and Dash on the couch, and Lara fills it in a little bit now. Imagines the way she’d straddle Dash’s thighs so she could look down into his face, sweetly flushed and still tentative around the eyes. The way she’d have to coach him to put his hands on her ass to hold her steady, the way she’d use that height to make him suck a wet mark over her clothed nipple, teasing him and herself. She’d have to be the one calling the shots, gentle with him because if anyone’s porcelain in this room, it’s Dash.

Looking at him across the room now, it’s so easy to imagine. It’s easy to want this, the sweet submission of him blurring over from their previous encounters to whatever this is.

He ducks his head shyly before looking up to catch her eye again, and the sight of it sends a bolt of heat through her. She could do this. _They_ could do this.

“You really want to go?” she asks, careful to give him the out while making clear that she wants him to stay.

His wide blue eyes skitter away from her own to dart to her hand on Blake’s shoulder, the curve of her ass, Blake’s thick thighs that are slightly bent to angle her against the door. It’s like he’s charting out the two of them for one of his sketches, more evidence of something that’s yet to happen.

“You don’t want me to go?” he finally asks, tentative. As Lara watches, he swallows visibly and shifts, his trousers adjusting with the movement so Lara can see his dick pushing against the zipper. The thin material of his t-shirt makes it easy for her to see his nipples hard and outlined against the material.

She licks her lips and looks at Blake, a quick assessment. It probably says a lot about them in general – though Lara vows to never think about it again after this moment – that Blake doesn’t even bat an eye, weirdly in sync with her on this just like they used to be before they were boss and subordinate, lieutenant and agent, when it was just the two of them against the brass and the world. Equal.

He doesn’t need to nod because Lara can read the minute jerk of his hips against hers, the way he’s shifted his dick to press hot against her pelvis as he turns his head to look at Dash. Blake’s in, and Lara rewards him for it by arching her back in a slow roll that makes both of them moan with the feel of it.

“I’m the one crashing your date,” Blake points out, voice hoarse. “You may as well let me make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me,” Dash repeats, sounding dazed, his attention taken up by the way Lara’s let her head drop back against the door so Blake can kiss her neck. They’re both watching him, waiting for him to make up his mind, and Dash seems overwhelmed by the attention. “Okay.”

Lara holds out a hand and waits for Dash to trust her.

He walks over to them, eyes wide and nervous, to take her hand and let her pull him closer. Blake automatically shifts back so Dash fits between him and Lara, giving them enough space so that Lara can pull Dash down for a soft, careful kiss, close mouthed and innocent, soft presses of lips that leave him gasping and with something fragile and warm unfurling in her chest. 

“Hey, trust me,” she murmurs, and Dash nods, eyes shut and mouth open, panting already with just that little bit.

“That’s good,” she whispers, “You’re doing so good.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Blake breathes as Dash shudders between the two of them. “Holy shit, that’s hot.”

At Blake’s words, Dash’s eyes fly open to look at her, dazed and wanting, and Lara can’t stop herself from leaving small kisses over Dash’s cheeks, his nose, teasing down to his mouth which is finally falling open for her so she can kiss him properly, slow and careful, until his eyes close again and he relaxes into it, his mouth finally moving against hers as he kisses back.

It makes her want to do amazing and terrible things, so much so that she has to pull back for a second and breathe, take a second to reassess the wisdom of doing this out in the hallway when there’s a perfectly decent bedroom just a couple of steps away.

“We’re going to go into the other room now,” she says, voice low and steady for Dash, watching him closely enough to see him flush and jerk, eager and afraid in equal measure as the three of them head across, Dash’s hand in hers.

Blake follows them, oddly willing to take a backseat. Lara catches him watching Dash with interest, assessing and probably coming up with the inevitable conclusion of virgin as well, though without the whole precog-trapped-in-a-milk-bath context, he probably has no explanation for it. Even then, his eyes roam over Dash’s face, his body like it’ll somehow explain things. He’ll probably going to ask soon, but Lara has no intention of letting it get that far. 

“Blake, you want to help Dash with his clothes?” she asks, keeping the same calming, steady pitch she used earlier, watching carefully as Dash startles at the idea.

Blake shoots her a wry look as he steps closer to grab the edges of Dash’s shirt and sweep it upwards over his head.

“What?” she mocks, pulling off her own clothes. “I’m delegating. Oh wait, isn’t that your job now?”

“It is,” Blake says, smug as can be as he reaches around Dash to unzip his jeans and pulls both, his jeans and his underwear off.

She rolls her eyes and looks at Dash to see if he’s okay. Except there’s suddenly a lot of pale, flushed skin on display, small pink nipples drawn tight. He’s watching her as well, and Lara’s conscious of her small waist and big hips, the soft brown of her skin and the way her hair sits around her face. He’s leaner than Blake, who’s undressing in the background, slim where Blake is heavily muscled from hours of training, taller where Blake is broader.

She watches as Blake presses up against Dash and pulls his head down into a kiss, Dash initially freezing up against him before relaxing and kissing back, his hands coming up to cup Blake’s jaw.

She keeps watching them as she settles back onto the bed, rearranging pillows so she can watch them easily as she thumbs a nipple and drops a hand down to her cunt to finger herself, the finger she works against the hood of her clit sending sensations sparking through her legs and stomach.

“Yeah,” Blake whispers when he sees her, and he nudges Dash until he opens his eyes, putting a hand on Dash’s neck to angle his head right. Lara stares back at them as she fingers herself.

“Look at Vega, man,” Blake whispers into Dash’s ear, and Lara can see him flush and shudder at the way Blake’s hand goes tight on his neck, the fact that he doesn’t really seem to believe that he’s seeing Lara get off.

“Let me show you something,” Blake tells him as he tows Dash closer, the two of them climbing onto the bed, Dash nervous and excited, his dick leaving a smear of precome on the sheets as he crawls closer.

Blake grins at her, cocky as ever, and Lara bites her lip as she grins back, ready for whatever he’s bringing.

“Watch,” Blake tells Dash, and then he leans down to where Lara’s already with the programme, holding herself open as Blake spears his tongue into her before flicking a couple of swipes over her clit.

Lara keens and drops her head back before forcing her eyes back open in time to watch Dash tremble, his fist working his cock and his mouth open, eyes flying over the breadth of Blake’s shoulders, Lara’s breasts where she’s still working a nipple between two fingers, pinching and then soothing it the way she likes, Blake’s face tucked up against her cunt and the fold of his arm so he can put two fingers in her as he laps harder against her clit, spears his tongue between his fingers. The room’s loud with the sound of it all, and Lara clenches down on Blake’s fingers as she comes, hard and fast, with her legs trembling like jelly and her stomach twitching.

Dash watches her through it, eyes fixed on hers, like he’s seen this all before but wants to check that he got the details right.

Blake sits up so Lara can see the smears she’s left on his face, over his cheeks and nose, and she knows exactly what he’s about to do a split second before he leans over and kisses her. Lara arches up and into it. His mouth tastes like her, and his dick is a hot weight pressed into her cunt like a promise.

He thrusts his hips against her a few times like a tease, and Lara arches against him, trying to get his dick in her, willing to play dirty pool and rake her nails down his back to make him hiss and his hips jerk.

“Lara,” he growls, and kisses her again, hard and fast, and she smiles against his lips, triumphant when he finally slams into her, thick cock filling her up just like she’s been wanting.

“God, you feel good,” he mutters, and shifts so he can get the wet heat of his mouth around her nipple, leaving it cold and spit-wet as he trails a kiss to the arch of her neck, her mouth.

“I’ve always been good,” she tells him as she trails her hands over his back and down to his ass, ghosting a finger between his ass cheeks like a promise.

She has to fight not to laugh when he pulls back long enough to give her a wry look, before he shifts back onto his knees, hands dragging her hips up his thighs so he gets a better angle, fucking into her with short, deep thrusts.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Lara cries out, because he’s right on the money there, the tell-tale trembling of her climax already tightening her stomach.

“Baby, I’m better,” he taunts, and pulls a hand away from her hips to press a finger against where he’s got his cock in her, already almost too thick and full, escalating like he always used to before the new job made him cautious.

And that shoves Lara straight over the top, her muscles spasming and clenching down on him, back bowing with the force of her orgasm.

“Told you,” Blake whispers, his own thrusts going jerky and erratic as he comes, slamming in so deep as he leans over to kiss her, the two of them shuddering together in sync.

He gives her a long look as he slumps off her to her side, like they’re going to be talking about this thing between them. Lara keeps her eyes steady on him, her teeth pressed into the swollen, heavy skin of her lower lip, aftershocks still sizzling through her nerve endings.

Except Blake doesn’t go for the kill right then. Instead he says, “Come on, man. Your turn.” And oh, _oh_ , shit, she thinks as Dash scrambles up to kneel between her legs, his eyes flying between her and Blake like he’s worried about getting this right.

It sets off something in Lara because she doesn’t even really think about it, just pushes upright and grabs at Dash’s arms, drags him over her so she can kiss him, fast and dirty like she’s been wanting to ever since he started kissing her back. She’s not even all the way down from her last climax and she’s already greedy for another, halfway up to it on just the thought alone.

“I’m not holding back,” she hisses, though whether she’s saying this to him or Blake is debatable, and reaches down to guide Dash into her, swallowing his gasp with her kiss.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she hears Blake say, like this is somehow the best thing he’s ever seen, and she agrees, because Dash is filling her up again and it’s so damn _good_.

“Come on,” she pleads as she works her hips, small thrusts that shift Dash against her like a tease, until something about this finally makes him start to move, thrusts short and clumsy but lighting up her nerve endings. “Yes, that’s good. More. Like that.”

His face takes up the entirety of her focus, the expressions shifting rapidly from wonder to desperation to a worried overwhelmed sort of panic and back again, his fingers tracing the edges of her face, the tips of her breasts, the sharp indent of her waist before it flares out into her hips. They’re barely rutting into each other, small movements that seem ridiculously intimate, almost as if they couldn’t stand to push away far enough for leverage.

“Go slower and pull out more before you push back in,” Blake whispers from where he’s lying next to them, and Dash turns to stare at him, shocked like he’d forgotten Blake was still with them.

Lara’s almost been waiting for Blake to make a joke about this too, but he’s surprisingly solemn, eyes sharp but mouth soft, as he puts a hand on Dash’s hip and guides him back and forth, one long thrust that lights up her nerve endings, and then another.

“Yeah, like that,” Blake says, and Dash’s mouth firms into desperate concentration as his thrusts go smooth and then erratic, face clenching up as he fights not to end this too soon.

“Don’t worry if you come quickly this first time,” Blake says, and Lara has to swallow against everything in her throat. “This isn’t the only chance you’ll get.”

Dash looks up at her to check if she’s agreeing to the cheques that Blake is writing in her name, and Lara nods frantically, because she could. She could want this.

“Let me see you,” she chokes out, and Dash nods frantically, eyes shut and mouth open as he pants, and then his hips lock and she can feel him come, wet and messy, half-out on the edge of her cunt with a misaligned thrust. His back bows and he tucks his face into the corner of her neck, quick breaths sounding almost like sobs.

Lara can understand the feeling, trapped somewhere between overwhelmed and on edge herself, eyes prickling. She turns her head and sees Blake watching the two of them, eyes sharp, taking in everything.

She curls a hand carefully over Dash’s head, the other rubbing a hand over his back in circles, automatically comforting, waiting for him to come down. She can feel his tears against her neck.

“You did great,” she tells him, her skin prickling hot as she keeps her eyes on Blake’s. “We did good just now.”


End file.
